


Golden Rings & Dragon Teeth

by thekingofcarrotflowers



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Cullen and Dorian Are Bros, Dragon hunting, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Mush, Fluffy Ending, Gift Giving, I love Sera y'all, Love Confessions, M/M, Rimming, Smut, aggressive flirting, tokens of affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-11 06:14:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3317183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekingofcarrotflowers/pseuds/thekingofcarrotflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Iron Bull leaves for a trip with the Inquisitor without Dorian, the mage has a bit of a crisis. He's given the Bull a token, in hopes of keeping him safe and making sure he returns to him. Return he does, and the Bull mentions the exchange of a broken dragon tooth as a symbol of commitment. Dorian's smitten enough to tag along on a dragon hunt to show the Bull how much he cares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Perils of Quiet Nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thepirateandhisswan](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Thepirateandhisswan).



> Thepirateandhisswan suggested I writing about Adoribull exchanging their dragon tooth necklaces and I got carried away.  
> This is my first fanfiction with chapters, and I'm a little nervous about completing it in a timely manner.  
> I'd love to hear some feedback!

“Wait,” Dorian said, suddenly more awake than he had been a moment ago. The Bull was getting dressed to head of with the Inquisitor to an elven ruin to recover a lost blade. He’d let Dorian remain sleeping, kissing him lightly on the cheek and murmuring a goodbye against his ear. Dorian grumbled and rolled over then, trying to find a new position in order to return to sleep. Chuckling softly, Bull had turned away to get dressed.

  
Now, Dorian was scrambling across the bed towards Bull. Grogginess clings to his features and weakened his composure, hair flattened on one side, eyes still crusted from sleep, a slight trace of drool on his chin. He was definitely not a morning person, but that never deterred from his beauty in Bull’s eyes.

  
Still in the nude, Dorian rose to his knees at the end of the bed in order to be at eye-level with the Bull. Wearing a lopsided smile, Bull drew closer and eased one hand around the mage’s waist. With a thumb, he wiped the drool from the corner of Dorian’s lip. He looked him over once, gaze settling back on Dorian’s face. The man’s eyebrows were knit and he was biting his lip worriedly. He idly traced the muscles and scars of Bull’s shoulders, their familiarity being soothing.

  
“Dorian?” Bull asked, knowing something was brewing in Dorian’s busy mind.

  
“I…” Dorian glanced downwards before resting his forehead against the Bull’s shoulder. There was a nervousness in Dorian that Bull had only seen a few times before, when the mage had become uncharacteristically somber to utter confessions about his feelings.

  
Bull waited like he had all the time in the world, despite the crew having a strict daybreak departure time. One hand ran up and down Dorian’s bare back soothingly, the other gently squeezing a hip.

  
Dorian leaned back suddenly, looking Bull in the eye. He pulled his hands away, fiddling with the array of rings on his fingers. Bull watched with interested as he pulled one ring from his thumb and grabbed for Bull’s hand.

  
“It’s a ring, nothing more,” Dorian mumbled, looking down at Bull’s massive hand. In Tevinter, rings carried a certain promise and weight to them. The simple, gold band barely fit on Bull’s pinky finger, but fit it did, “It’s for luck, white you’re away. A reminder for you to return to me.”

  
“Kadan,” Bull said softly, seeing the worry in Dorian’s eyes. Leaning forward, he kissed Dorian on the forehead. The mage let out a relieved sigh, eyes closing. Gently taking Dorian’s jaw in his hand, Bull moved a gentle kiss down to his lips, “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

  
“Nor do I,” Dorian admitted, but he glanced away, chewing at his lip again, “But… it’s impossible to think that we’re all going to make it out of this alive. One of these times-”  
Bull placed a finger to Dorian’s lips. A tremor passed through the other man as he fell silent, looking up at the Bull, amber eyes wide and damp.

  
“I’ll return,” Bull said with confidence, “I’ll have to make sure this ring makes it back to you, anyhow.”

  
“Precisely. All part of the plan, really,” Dorian manages to laugh, expression relaxing slightly. He quickly pulls Bull down into another kiss, this one longer and deeper than the others.

  
Long, tan fingers strap Bull into his harness, practiced now at removing and reapplying the piece of armor. Bull watches Dorian’s hands work, then smooth against the metal of the harness, across the gray of his own skin. The hands are trembling again. Quickly, Bull sweeps them into his own steady hands - notices the golden ring fitting snug amongst his digits - and kisses the backs of Dorian’s hands.

  
“Panahedan,” Dorian murmurs a farewell blessing in far-from-perfect Qunlat. It makes Bull grin, mind flickering to a time he found Dorian asleep in front of the fire with a book of Qunari histories and language laying across his chest. It must have been a special order through Josephine, the Skyhold library rather lacking in reading material on the Qun.

  
After one more quick kiss, knowing anything more would prove too distracting, Bull disappears into the dawn. Dorian is left, feeling cold and alone and entirely awake in Bull’s bed at this ungodly hour. Sleep alludes him and he knows laying in Bull’s bed, alone and a little frightened, would be bad for his mental health. Instead, he dresses slowly, trying to avoid any glimpse of Bull leaving he may see while crossing the battlements. The robes from last night were folded neatly on the dresser, entirely Bull’s doing. Dorian had discarded them onto the floor the night before as he hurried into Bull’s bed.

 

~~~

  
Time passes painfully slow for Dorian. The thought of losing Bull weighs heavily on his mind. He spends most of his time in the library, reading anything that might take his mind off of the other man’s absence for a few moments. It would be easier, he thought glumly, not to be so invested in another during an apocalypse. Waving the thought away with a flicker of guilt, he know he wouldn’t want it any other way. He smiles when he notices he’s missing the ring, thinking that Bull is wearing it a world away.

  
Some days, he reads all through the night, not wanting to go to bed alone. Then, he passes out for a few hours when the sun is high in the sky. Really, he gets only a handful of hours of sleep over the week. He thinks it’s fair, since Bull will be in a similar state during his travels. One of these days, he starts awake to find Cullen standing before him.

  
“I didn’t wish to wake you,” Cullen apologizes hurriedly. Worry is clear on his fair features, making him all that much more charming, “You missed our chess match and I was a bit concerned-”

  
“Fasta vass, that’s the day?” Dorian sits up, having slipped down the chair as he dozed. Anything outside himself and his worry over the Bull has fall to the wayside. Rubbing an eye and smoothing out his mustache, he tries to fake composure, “I’ve been caught up in research, you see…”

  
Cullen doesn’t pay his halfhearted excuse any attention: “I realized that both the Inquisitor and the Bull were away, so there would be no one to make sure you ate or slept in a reasonable place.”

  
“Aw, Commander, you do care,” Dorian teased, a smirk pulling at his lips.

  
“We are friends, Dorian,” Cullen stated as if it were obvious.

  
A lump was suddenly in Dorian’s throat. He tried to swallow it down, but it only bobbed threateningly. It was foolish to be reacting so strongly to such a little thing, but it had been a long time since Dorian truly had friends.

  
“Come,” Cullen said gently, seeing the emotion clearly on Dorian’s face, “Lets us head to the kitchens and get you something to eat. Then, you can retreat back to the library, if you wish.”

Dorian spent the rest of the day pestering Cullen, realizing how awfully alone he’d been feeling now that he had some company. They ate together in Cullen’s office, Dorian telling tales of his home country and noticing he misses it considerably less than he used to. He has more important things to miss, now. Cullen shares stories of his youth, of his siblings and of before he was a Templar. Dorian stills sees much of the innocent farm boy in him now. When Cullen moves on to pouring over paperwork, Dorian stays when the Commander makes an offer. A few rows of books on the wall catch his attention, and he studies the titles, curious to what Cullen keeps on hand. It’s mostly books on battle tactics, histories of wars, a few references of other cultures, and a small collection of poetry. It makes Dorian smile to himself, thinking hour their lion was a romantic at heart.  
Pulling the books of poetry off the shelf earns him an exasperated look from Cullen, but he settles down into the armchair with them anyways. Hours tick by like this, one of them making the occasional comment. At some point, lulled by the gentle rustling of pages, the flickering candlelight, and the soft poetry, Dorian’s eyes slip closed.  
He wakes again, some hours later, to Cullen covering him with a blanket before he moves towards the ladder.

  
“So much for sleeping in reasonable places,” Dorian yawns and shifts. He’s trying to decide if he should fully wake and flee back to the library, or give in and sleep the rest of the night in the drafty office.

  
“Sleep,” Cullen orders softly, knowing Dorian is in a rough spot and deciding it is best for someone to keep an eye on him.

  
“Hmm, waking up to you isn’t an entirely unpleasant thing, so I think I will give in,” Dorian mutters, turning his face to press against to wing of the chair.

  
“Goodnight, Dorian.”

 

Dorian wakes again in the early morning when a scout opens the door. He curses softly and hurries to his feet, mumbling that he’s not sure where Cullen is, before heading out the door. It feels more like a walk of shame than it should. It’s embarrassing to wake up looking crumpled and unkempt in the Commander’s office, for one. For another, the persistent rumors about him casting spells and bedding his way into the Inquisition’s ranks had only just begun to die down, and another round of gossip wasn’t at all appealing.

  
Cullen stops in the library daily for the next week. When he can’t make it around meal times, he sends a soldier with a tray of food for Dorian. Some days, it’s a quick hello between the two men as Cullen hurries between meetings and training his troops. Other times, he lingers, reminding Dorian to eat the food he sends, and to sleep in a bed - to sleep at all - once in awhile.

  
“You don’t sleep,” Dorian snapped one morning after two days of not sleeping at all. He knew of Cullen’s avoidance of sleep, of his lyrium withdrawals and nightmares. As soon as the three words escape his mouth, he regrets them.

  
“No, well…” Cullen clears his throat, feeling put on the spot and slightly embarrassed, “I might understand the perils of quiet nights alone than some.”

  
Dorian sucks in a breath, guilt bubbling. The man is only trying to help. He runs a shaky hand through his hair.

  
“My apologies. I … I am taking Bull’s leave worse than normal,” he admits quietly. Really, since their relationship began, the Inquisitor had almost always brought them along as a pair. He glances down at his hand, at the missing ring and feels the absence of Bull’s presence in his life. Still, he can’t help the sad smile that crosses his face at the thought of the almost too small ring on Bull’s pinky. Cullen pats him arm before he leaves, insisting that Dorian join him for a game of chest that afternoon.


	2. A Reminder of Your Absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dorian and the Bull are reunited, and Dorian makes plans to go dragon hunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a snow day from work today, so I thought I'd go ahead and get the next chapter up. Chapter 3 is mostly done, just wrapping it up. This is looking to be 4 (5, possibly) chapters long.

Days later, Dorian is startled from his slumber in the library once more. It’s bright outside, and Dorian can’t quite remember what time of day it was when he was late awake. Blearily, he blinks up at the large shape hovering over him. For a brief moment,he thought it was the Commander worrying over him again. Of course, the hulking shape and huge horns are unmistakable. Dorian realizes he’s slunk far down in the chair, close to slipping onto the floor. As he scrambles to sit up, a few books toppled from his lap.

“Bull?” Dorian asks dumbly at the shadow over him, eyes finally focusing.

The laugh that answers is unmistakable as well. It rumbles around the library, deep and low and warming. As Dorian’s heels struggle to make purchase against the crumpled carpet, large arms reach out to help Dorian back into the chair. The hands move up, to sweep across his face and through his hair.

“No welcome wagon or fan fair for my return, huh?” Bull teased. He didn’t really expect Dorian to be waiting at the gates. He was too proud for that. Finding him passed out among the tomes and burnt out candles was more endearing, anyhow.

“Bull,” Dorian repeats, relief clear in his tone and across his face. The sleep still clinging to him isn’t helping, making him less composed and quick than he would normally be. He studies the man before him, armor still stained with blood, a deep gash drawn together by magic stretching across his abdomen. Red stains decorate his fingertips and spots on his body. His battle-axe is still strapped to his back. It’s obvious he hasn’t cleaned up before coming to see Dorian. Then, his gaze falls to the ring on his finger, and overwhelming adoration fills Dorian’s chest.

“Told yah I’d be back,” Bull flashes a smug smile, thought he looks gentle and mildly concerned.

“Yes, thought I expected you to at least bath before gracing me with your presence,” Dorian responded, studying his nails in an effort to look unmoved.

Bull only chuckles, “Cullen warned me you’ve been living out of the library since I left.”

“Ah…” Dorian feels heat in his cheeks. Curse Cullen for being such a good friend.

“C’mon, you can help me get cleaned up and out of these clothes,” Bull gives that one-eyed wink that Dorian once loathed. Now, it stirs something within him, much akin to want.

Easily, Bull pulls Dorian up out of the chair. For a moment, Dorian presses close to his expansive chest, despite the blood and dirt. He breathes in his smell, leather and metal and musk, with a sigh of relief. Then, he pulls back, smoothing out his robes as he tries to hide his feelings.

“My room is closer,” Dorian states, tipping his chin up as he begins to lead them through the library to the stone walkway that eventually leads to his room. Bull’s fingers dance across his back and shoulders as they navigate the hall, sending small chills through Dorian. It’s mid-day, so there’s a fair amount of people about, but Dorian ignores their quick glances. It’s been far too long since he’s felt Bull’s touch to be concerned with the gossip of strangers.

Dorian eases his door open, trying to think when he was last here. Dour days ago, when he needed a book he had borrowed from the library? That sounded right. It was cold and a fire hadn’t been lit in the hearth for ages. He grabbed Bull’s hand, stopping the endless pattern he was tracing against his back, and guided him to the bed.

“Sit,” Dorian said, pushing against his chest. Bull didn’t budge until he wanted to, easing down onto the edge of the bed, making it creak with his added weight.

Dorian turned away, bringing the fire back to life with a flick of his wrist. It casts a warm, welcome glow across the room. He turns to a basin of water, cold and unused from days prior. Fingers glowing with glyphs, he dips his hand into the water and quickly heats it. Bull is watching intently, studying the mage closely, having missed him as much as he was missed.

Dorian turns around, basin and cloth in hand. He approaches Bull, dipping the cloth in the water.

“First, I suppose I should let you put your weapon away-”

Bull snickers, a joke on his lips, but the look Dorian shoots him keeps him from talking.

“Alright, alright,” the Iron Bull raised his hands as a peace offering, crossing the room and setting the heavy axe by the door. Dorian gestures to the bed again and Bull complies.

Setting the water aside for a moment, Dorian begins to work at the fastens of the harness. The last time he was fiddling with them, he was putting them on to let Bull leave. He was grateful to be finally pulling them off again. With some effort, he pulls off the Bull’s muddy shoes as well. Bull doesn’t object, watching Dorian fuss over him making his heart swell, and he knows this is what the mage needs to do to feel better. Bull helps Dorian remove his pants-

“Infuriating circus tent!” Dorian grumbled as he failed to pull them off without the Bull standing and assisting.

Once Bull sits back down, Dorian’s hands move to Bull’s eye patch. It catches him by surprise. The other man has seen Bull without it previously, has seen him completely bare before, like few others have. Dorian carefully removed it, thumb gently gliding across the scarred tissue that was once his eye.

Leaning forward then, he placed a gentle kiss on the ruined eye. Bull lets his other eye fall closed, hands moving to wrap around Dorian and pull him nearer. They stay pressed together for a long time, relieved to be in each other’s embrace again.

“Let’s finished getting you cleaned up,” Dorian murmured against his skin, starting to lean back. Initially, Bull doesn’t let him.

“I’m only going to get filthy again later, aren’t I?” growled Bull, squeezing Dorian tighter for a moment before letting him go.

“If you play your cards right, I suppose,” Dorian smiles, giving away his true feelings of deep affection, despite his bored tone.

Dorian moved back to the water, dipping the cloth in it and then running it across Bull’s skin. It is warm and soothing, and Bull makes a sound of approval. He carefully wipes away the grime of the journey, hands moving delicately over battle-worn skin, dancing around fresh wounds in order to sooth and not irritate. His brow knits with concentration and dull worry, gold eyes rereading each patch of flesh.

“Will it scar?” Dorian asked, fingers close to the healing wound on the Bull’s stomach.

“I hope so,” Iron Bull grunted, hand finding Dorian’s as it lingered on his abdomen. It was the hand that Bull wore the the ring on, which was dirty and dulled, but still there.

Dorian sighed slightly, mostly for show, “You being a Reaver has its obvious concerns.”

“Nah, I know how to handle myself.”

Dorian hummed softly in thought, looking at their linked hands: “You’re still wearing it.”

“Yeah, of course. I had to return it,” Bull said matter-of-factly, using his other hand to tip Dorian’s face up towards his own. He tiptoed his fingers across his cheek, brushing the bump in his nose, grazing the beauty mark under his eye.

“I would have been utterly disappointed if it hadn’t been returned. Surely, it costs more than what the Inquisitor is paying you,” Dorian sniffs, trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal. When Bull’s thumb sweeps across his bottom lip, he whimpers.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Bull smirks, then his voice goes low and deep, “It was nice to have. A reminder of you.”

Dorian shivered, then mumbled an admittance, “It was a reassurance to know you had it. But… It was also a reminder of your absence.” He glanced down at his own bare finger.

“Oh,” Bull said, scratching his chin as he thought, weighting what he was about to say next, “In the Qun - though it happens rarely - if two people wish to show their commitment to each other, they get a dragon’s tooth, break it in half, craft matching necklaces. That way, no matter how far apart life may take them, they’re always together.”

Dorian blinks. He’s unsure if it’s an offer, a suggestion, or just a passing remarking. An almost shy smile pulls at his lips.

“How barbaric,” Dorian mutters, “Seems fitting for your people.”

“You know the qunari and dragons,” Bull laughs. Then, he nuzzles his face into the crook of Dorian’s neck, lips moving and warm tongue dancing across skin. His breath his hot when he speaks against dark skin, “We’re together now.”

“That we are,” Dorian sighs in agreement, knees going weak as Bull nips his collarbone. He feels the Bull twitch against his leg and it’s impossible to resist, “Now that you’re all cleaned up, I wouldn’t be entirely opposed to joining you in bed.”

 

~~~

“Inquisitor!” Dorian exclaimed, slightly out of breath as he stumbles into the underground collection of spirits the Herald is collection, “I’ve been searching high and low, and I’ve finally found you.”

“Is something wrong?” she asks, equally concerned and frustrating. She never seems to catch a break.

“Oh. No, not at all,” Dorian answers, brushing himself off and straightening up, “I just had a … request.”

“You and everyone else,” she sighs. Dorian looks momentarily pained, a pang of guilt passing through him, and she feels sorry she’d said it. Truly, Dorian’s requests were few and far between, and he had grown to be one of her closest friends and confidants within Skyhold, “But anything for you, Dorian. What is it?”

“Ah, well…” he feels more apprehensive about asking now, “You aren’t going Dragon hunting anytime soon, are you?”

“Perhaps. There’s a set of Dragons terrorizing Emprise du Lion. I’ll be sure to keep you off the roster for that day-” she said, thinking she understood where this was going.

“No!” Dorian answered too quickly, throwing his hands up. With an embarrassed cough, he composed himself once more, “I mean … I would very much like to attend one of these hunts, if you’d have me.”

Eyes narrowing, she demanded: “Have you gone and gotten yourself possessed?”

Nervously, the mage chuckled, “I just believe adding Dragon Hunter to my long list of accomplishments would be rather glamorous. Dragon Hunter, Necromancer, Pariah, Heir to the House of Pavus, Most Attractive Member of the Inquisition. As you know, the list goes on and on.”

Still, the Herald was unconvinced. She grossed her arms, gaze critical, “But really, Dorian…”

“Alright, fine,” he huffed, crossing his arms as well and tapping a foot, “Bull mentioned some nonsense about companions in the Qun sharing dragon teeth to express their … devotion. I was only hoping-”

The Inquisitor’s face breaks into a wide grin.

“Oh, no. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Oh, Dorian!” she exclaimed, thrilled at the idea, “Of course I’ll take you along!”

“I … Appreciate it, m’lady,” Dorian bowed slightly, a blush creeping across his cheeks. Hurriedly, before Dorian can rush away, she pulls him into a strong hug.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come say hi!  
> http://thekingofcarrotflower.tumblr.com/


	3. Dragon Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian goes Dragon Hunting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure how happy I am with this chapter (or the next, really). I haven't wrote a whole lot of action scenes, so I kinda grazed over the action and blah.  
> Anyways.

Dorian puts on a good show when he get ‘recruited’ into Dragon hunting. Iron Bull is coming along, too, because who better to fight a Dragon than the massive qunari. He had battled a Dragon with the Inquisitor before, one in the Hinterlands who had been delaying travel to Redcliff for a number of people and burning the hillside to a crisp. No one else would appreciate it as much, either. In reality, Dorian isn’t actually happy about the situation at all. He’s possibly a bigger ball of nerves than he normally would be, worried about giving himself away. They had decided that Cole  definitely  couldn’t come along, a major risk of giving it all away, so Sera claimed the rogue spot.

“Relax, Dorian,” Bull advised, putting a heavy hand on his shoulder, “I’ll keep you safe from the big bag Dragons.”

Dorian makes a noise of annoyance, pulling away, “I can handle myself, thank you.”

“Sure, whatever you say.”

 

They trek high into the snowy mountains to find the breeding grounds.Those in the area hope the Inquisition can get there before the Dragons began to populate, and there are supposedly three in the hillside. The whole situation was getting worse and worse for Dorian.

“This isn’t what I signed up for,” Dorian grumbled as they headed up the passage to the mountain top, “Frostbite, red lyrium,  three  bloody Dragons…”

“Sorry, Dorian…” the Inquisitor mumbled sheepishly, “But, two of the three are rumored to be some sort of Frost Dragons. Who else other than our fiery Tevinter mage could I drag along?”

Dorian snorted, continuing to grumble to himself.

Halfway up the pass, they spotted a Dragon circling. Dorian sighed loudly as the others grew tangibly excited.

“We’re fighting her, right, Boss?” Iron Bull insisted, muscles rippling as he grips his weapon in anticipation. 

“That’s the plan,” she nodded in reply, looking a combination of afraid and determined.

“Phwoar!” Sera breathed as she stares at where it disappeared over the ridge. 

“Let’s get this over with,” Dorian sighed. The Inquisitor gives him a worried, knowing look. He nods slightly to reassure her, hoping the Bull doesn’t read too much into their interaction. It’s impossible to hide anything from the lug, and he desperately hopes this is the one thing he can. 

As they reach the top of the mountain, a screech rocks the ground beneath their feet. Dorian slips, nearly falling back down the side of the mountain, but Bull steadies both he and Sera with little effort. They all take a moment to ready themselves.

“Look at her,” Iron Bull breathes happily as the creature screams and spits in their direction.

“Forward,” the Inquisitor orders, and the fight begins.

It’s a fierce battle. The Dragon breathes ice, chilling any blackening any bare flesh it touches. Dorian is thankful he forewent bare shoulders for something with more coverage. Dorian’s flames melt patches of the snow, leaving them fighting in slushy water that further dampens them all. As volleys of ice are flung their way, he raises high barriers of flame, reducing the ice to streams of thick fog. Flames dance around his arms and shoulders, energy funneled at the beast. Elaborate glyphs spring up beneath its claws, mirroring the glowing designs on Dorian’s hands. Sera and he stay on the outskirts of the battleground as best they can, Bull and the Herald up close and personal with the monster. Their weapons have been enchanted by Dagna, glowing with dragon fighting runes, edges sparking red with added fire damage. Even Sera’s bows burst into flames as they rocket through the air. Despite the cold of the environment and the ice radiating off the Dragon, they’re all slick with sweat, making Dorian feeling hot and cold all at once.

At one point, the Dragon takes to the air, circling like a bird of prey. Below, they scatter as blasts of ice hit the ground, exploding into dangerous pieces of shrapnel. One piece cuts across Dorian’s face, slicing dangerously close to an eye. Another lodges into his thigh, puncturing layers of clothes and flesh, melting and leaving a bloody gouge as the air around him heats up with inferno magic.

Halfway through the fight, they all wear their share of wounds already. It’s impossible to fight such a powerful creature and walk away unharmed. Sera’s limping, favoring one side after a sweep of the Dragon’s tail took her feet out from under her. Bull has patches of skin blackened and raw from icy breathes, deep claw marks across his torso. The Inquisitor is missing part of her shoulder armor, exposed flesh there looking mangled. Still, they will walk away without serious injury.

Dorian delivers the fatal blow. He conjures the blast of flame with a throw of his hands and a powerful yell. The Dragon bellows, teetering dangerous for a moment, giving the Warriors enough time to retreat. With a final whine, the body crashes to the earth. They’re all panting, aching, catching their breath for a long moment before Bull lets out a whoop of triumph and a series of bellowing laughs.

“Big heroes, us. That was…” Sera looks flustered, until a grin catches on her face, “That was great.” 

“Excellent work,” the Inquisitor is grinning as well, taking turns clapping them all on the back.

Dorian’s mustache twitches. He wants to smile, but he’s made such a fuss up until this point that he’s trying to resist. 

“Come on, Dorian, you can’t deny it! That was something!” the Bull is grinning, huge and contagious. Dorian can’t resist any longer.

“Yes, well,” he’s trying to hide the smile behind his hand as he wipes blood from his face, “It was rather … exhilarating.” 

“Makes me want to do more exhilarating things,” the Bull growls, and Dorian knows that look. A flush rises in Dorian’s face and down his neck.

“We’ll be doing no such things in this wretched cold. I need to keep all the clothes on I can!” Dorian crossed his arms, even though a jolt of warmth and want sparks in his belly.

Bull simply growled again, low and deep.

“Get a room!” Sera yelled, pretending to retch.

Bull just winked at her.

“Keep it together for a bit longer, Bull…” the Inquisitor groaned, giving him a concerned look, “We still need to loot. They said some Dragon scales could be handy of research, and who knows what valuables this one might have been carrying on her.”

“Right. Sorry, Boss,” Bull grunted. Dorian eyed him carefully, putting some space between them. The aftereffects of the battle are still there, based on the knee-weakening looks Bull shoots Dorian, the clenching and unfurling of fists, the slight tremor in his thick neck. It all makes Dorian rather light headed, but he’s trying to stay focused on the whole point of coming on this bloody mission. He keeps close to the Inquisitor, both to deter Bull from his aggressive flirting as well as making it look like he’s being helpful. With some effort, he manages to remove a tooth from a Dragon as Bull tensely paces the outskirts of the ring. It stinks of rotten flesh and rancid breath, and he carefully slips it to the Herald before the Bull can notice.

“Now, go back to camp before Bull takes you right here and now,” the Inquisitor grumbled, making Dorian grow a deep shape of red. When he glances in Bull’s direction,the man is positively tingling with pent-up energy. Dorian swallows and wanders over to his direction. He’s thankful the Bull is so distracted - maybe it means he won’t notice they’re up to something. 

“We’re headed back. Got everything we need,” the Inquisitor announced to them all, “We’ll rest for a day and the find the next Dragon.”

“Finally,” Bull breathed, hand reaching out to touch Dorian’s arm. Despite the layers of clothes, the touch sparks through Dorian, making him tremble again. There’s no denying there’s adrenaline and want coursing through his veins as well. When he shoots a acrid look at Bull, the man looks positively pleased wit himself.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” Dorian insisted, pushing at Bull’s arm and going to slip out of his reach again. Before he could, the Bull catches him by the wrist and pulls him close. The kiss he plants on the mage’s lips is hot and deep, consuming Dorian, making him whimper against those scarred lips. He nearly falls to his knees when Bull finally lets him go. The gagging sounds from Sera go unheard by Dorian, his head and body buzzing. 

“Bull!” the Inquisitor scolded, more out of surprise than disapproval. 

Bull swats at Dorian’s ass when he starts to hurry away. When the large hand connects, Dorian yelps and hurries forward. He walks with Sera on the way back to camp, knowing walking by the Bull will only cause them both to lose any and all sense of self-control. He can still feel the Bull’s gaze boring through him, intense and wanting. It makes the growing heat in the pit of Dorian’s stomach burn stronger. 


	4. The Results of Dragon Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Bull make it back to camp and celebrate a successful dragon hunt the best way they know how.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut. so much smut.  
> I didn't plan on it being 4k worth of smut, but it happened, and now there's no going back.

“You two take care of your battle wounds before you go shag,” the Inquisitor grumbles when the near camp, much to Sera’s delight and Dorian’s embarrassment. Dorian grows redder as Sera cackles behind him. The journey back down the hill was aggravating Dorian’s leg, making him limp, using his staff as support.

“I like how Dorian looks after a fight,” Bull growls, making Dorian start slightly, eyes going wide. He’d experienced the Bull’s passion and aggression after a particularly impressive fight before, and they had a especially zealous romp when Bull returned from the last Dragon Hunt. There’d been other times with ropes and knots, bruising bites and burning candle wax when they were feeling especially deviant. This, this was something entirely different. Lust and adrenaline practically oozed from the Bull, his usually cool eye blown wide so it looked black, his large hands trembling. It makes Dorian think momentarily about the Iron Bull being a Tal-Vashoth now, control and order striped from him, but Dorian has no doubt in his mind that Bull would stop if he said the word.

Bull studied Dorian closely, tongue passing over his lips briefly. It makes Dorian tremble. The sweat is now mostly dry on Dorian’s his dark skin. His hair has lost some of its style, dampened from snow and perspiration. There’s blood caked in his mustache, staining the cloth on his thigh where he was injured, splattered across his robes. Somehow, it makes Bull want him more.

“I don’t need you breaking my mage,” the Inquisitor sighs, rubbing the bridge of her nose. Maybe she hadn’t really thought this all out well enough, “You both get patched up first, and that’s an order.”

“Sure, Boss,” the Bull nods, not taking his eye off of Dorian. He catches the mage by the arm, guiding them both to where their stock of healing supplies and bandages are. He leans towards Dorian’s ear, warm breath tickling his neck, “I can’t wait to get you back to our tent, get those clothes off of you, and really fuck you.”

Dorian shivers, the unrelenting throbbing in his wounded leg fading away as the only feeling that throbbed through his body became pure want. He pulls away quickly. They tend to wounds hurriedly, Bull’s frostbite lessening to raw red patches of irritation, Dorian’s puncture wound drawing together into a scabbing sore. Dorian avoids Bull’s heated gaze, makes sure he’s out of reach of his groping hands. He wants the other man badly, and knows that he has little restraint himself right now. The wrong look, the wrong touch, and he’s sure he’d become a whimpering mess.

When they’re both patched up, the Bull’s eye are still on him. Dorian stumbles over himself to reach their tent. Bull is close behind, catching Dorian when he trips over his own wobbly feet just outside the tent. He sweeps Dorian inside, planting a firm kiss on Dorian’s parted lips. The mage whimpers against it as Bull’s tongue explores, pressing hot into Dorian’s mouth.

“B-Bull - _ah_ \- this is ha-hardly appropriate,” Dorian whines, breath catching. Bull’s mouth begins to explore his neck, nipping and licking. He feels suddenly self-conscious, knowing Sera and the Inquisitor were probably fleeing from camp at the prospect of the pair’s romp, “It’s only midday and - _mmm_ \- everyone is going to know what we’re d-doing…”

Bull growls, tongue flickering over Dorian’s earlobe, “It’s old news by now.”

“Y-yes, well…” Dorian half-laughs, half-moans as the Bull sucks at his neck again, sure to leave a bruise, “We’ll have to b-be quiet…”

Bull laughs into the crook of Dorian’s neck before he nips the skin there again. It’s vaguely frustrating that Dorian opted for more coverage this trip, the usual expansive of shoulder and arm covered. Dorian relaxes into the hold Bull has on him, biting his lip and moaning quietly as one of Bull’s hands tangle in his hair and the other wraps his shoulders. Then, their mouths crash together again. Bull probes his tongue against Dorian’s lips before the mage parts them, letting Bull fully and deeply explore his mouth with his long, hot tongue. They still have layers of clothes on between them, and the noises Dorian’s making are already pitiful.

“Clothes off. Now,” Dorian gasps when they part for air. His hands move downwards, moving down towards Bull’s waistband. The larger man watches Dorian’s fingers work to unclasp his belt, Dorian leaning forward to kiss and lick Bull’s chest as he works. He places a few lingering, tender kisses on the spots that are still red and raw from the battle. Then, Dorian tugs at the belt, throwing it to the ground, before tugging pants down in one swift movement. Bull kicks off his boots, stepping out of the pants.

Trailing wet kisses and sharp nips down the hard muscles of Bull’s abdomen, Dorian eases down to his knees. The Bull’s cock is already hard and leaking at the tip, and Dorian briefly wonders how long his lover has been sporting an erection - if it was before or after the fight began. Bull’s clawed fingers rake through Dorian’s hair, and Dorian readies himself, licking his lips before flicking his tongue against the head. A guttural moan rises from Bull and he grabs at a handful of locks. Dorian smirks slightly, before slipping his lips around the head. He begins to suck, head bobbing, making pleased noises in response to Bull’s groans. With a wet pop, he removes the length from his mouth to trace his tongue down the vein on the underside of Bull’s cock, one hand running up Bull’s thigh to tease his balls, the other hand digging into the muscle of Bull’s calf. Bull’s biting his lip, looking down at Dorian as he works.

After thoroughly exploring Bull’s cock with his tongue, Dorian slowly eases it between his lips again. He moves agonizingly slow at first, lips tight and hot around the member. He warms his fingertips with magic, something that Bull’s grown to love, and he wraps his hand around the base of Bull. A few skilled jerks of Dorian’s hand and Bull’s biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, gently moaning Dorian’s name. Encouraged by the nosies Bull’s making, Dorian picks up his pace only slightly, settling into a slow and rhythmic movement of his head and hand. When Bull bucks forward slightly, Dorian pulls away teasingly, happy with the slight whimper that escapes Bull’s lips.

After a few moments, Bull and Dorian both groaning with pleasure, wet sounds filling the tent, Dorian’s eyes flicker up the meet with Bull’s. It’s almost too much for the Bull, who groans deeply, gently guiding Dorian’s head forward. It’s taken months of practice, but Dorian’s able to swallow down Bull’s massive length when he puts his mind to it. He takes it slow, stopping to breath when he feels himself start to react, keeping his eyes trained on Bull’s face. Swallowing around Bull, tipping his head back just so, he’s able to swallow down the rest of it, Bull tugging at his hair and gasping.

“That’s it, Dorian. Good boy,” Bull growls softly, head tipped back. He keeps his voice low and rough, from the sensation and to keep their romp quiet, as Dorian requested.

Dorian eases Bull from his mouth slowly, before managing the feat a second time. Bull grunts, murmuring again about how good he feels, how good he looks, how good he is. Dorian whimpers slightly as he draws back again, tongue pressed flat against the underside of Bull’s length. He begins to bob his head again, faster than before, lips pressed tight around Bull. When Bull jerks forward, unable to stop himself, Dorian whines again, and it’s too much for Bull.

“Dorian, I’m going to-” Bull grits out his warning. Dorian’s eyes are trained on his face again, and Bull comes in Dorian’s mouth with a tremor and Dorian’s name on his lips. Dorian hungrily swallows it all down, sucking gently.

“C’mere,” Bull pants, helping Dorian back to his feet. He leans down to plant as messy kiss on Dorian’s mouth, tasting himself on Dorian’s tongue, running his hands down Dorian’s sides. The mage moans into his mouth and grinds against Bull’s leg, his own cock still hard and pressing against his robes. Bull begins to work at all those buckles, still kissing deeply as he pulls them off, leaving Dorian in stockinged legs. His hand trails downward, pressing against Dorian’s erection through the clothing. He necks Dorian as he does so, the man trembling in his hands

“Bull, I thought - ah - you couldn’t w-wait to get my clothes off earlier,” Dorian smirks, referring to Bull whispering dirty things in his ear earlier. The man’s hair is already a sweaty mess, from all the grabbing and pulling, and he’s giving convincing bedroom eyes, “And really fuck me.”

Bull growls an affirmative, before pulling away from Dorian, “Lay down.”

Dorian cocked an eyebrow slightly, going to pull off his pants. Bull stops him, hands gently encircling his wrist and he repeats:

“Lay down.”

“Face down, bits up, as Sera says?” Dorian teases, stepping backwards towards their bedrolls with a slight swing to his hips. His erection is obvious through his stockings, the outline pressing against the fabric.

“On your back.”

Dorian complies, laying down on his back on his bedroll, propping himself up slightly with his elbows. Bull takes a few steps forward. For a moment, Bull looms over him, silver skin slick with sweat, already half-hard again, eye glinting with want. He licks his lips before kneeling down between Dorian’s legs. In a swift movement, he tears Dorian’s stockings from his body.

“You brute!” Dorian scolds as the fabric rips away, discarded in a pile, faking anger despite the heat that rises in the pit of Dorian’s belly from the show of force.

“They were ripped and blood stained anyways,” Bull shrugs slightly, smirking smugly. He leans down, placing a gentle kiss on the healing wound on Dorian’s thigh. Dorian wriggles his hips slightly, enticingly, in reply

“Fine. Get on with it, then,” Dorian tips his chin up, trying to look proud, but the look he gives Bull gives away his want.

Bull grabs Dorian’s hips, pulling him up and forward. Dorian squawks in surprise, falling back onto the bedroll as the Bull hoists his legs up over his shoulders. Dorian feels blood rush to his head as his legs hook around Bull’s shoulders, his upper back and shoulders supporting his weight, Bull’s hot breath on his groin. One of Bull’s hands makes its way to the small of Dorian’s back, helping to hold him up.

Sharp teeth nip the inside of Dorian’s thigh, leaving a red mark that’s sure to bruise. Bull bites and kisses up and down Dorian’s quivering thighs, making the man breathe heavily. Dorian shifts slightly, trying to get Bull to take notice of his achingly hard erection, hooking a leg around Bull’s neck to pull himself closer, but Bull continues to pay special attention to area around his cock. When Bull’s mouth finally finds Dorian’s balls, Dorian sucks in a sharp breath as Bull licks and sucks at them. He vaguely remembers that he complained about the noise they might make, but it’s hard to keep a loud moan suppressed when Bull’s tongue licks up the side of his shaft. When Bull finally takes him into his mouth, Dorian swallows down a yell of Bull’s name into a shaky groan, making Bull smile around his member.

Bull can easily swallow down Dorian’s length, though Dorian is well-equipped for a human. He moves his head slowly, teasing and toying with Dorian. Another groan escapes Dorian as he squirms, hands above his head tensing and balling into fists. Bull continues to move slowly, tongue rubbing against Dorian’s length, running across his slit at an agonizingly pace. Strong hands keep Dorian still, Bull easily able to keep Dorian from bucking up into his mouth.

“Fasta vass,” Dorian groans, one of his heels kicking against Bull’s back, “I said, get on with it.”

A chuckle rises in Bull’s throat, vibrating up through Dorian’s cock. He picks up the pace, wanting to see Dorian writhe, moving both hands to hold Dorian by the hips. When he arches, his body curves like a bow, stomach and legs tensing, stressing the sharp lines of muscles and hip bones and collarbones. A deep flush is rising in Dorian’s face from the angle and the pleasure, breath quickening. He groans deeply again, arching farther up. His trembling beneath Bull’s fingers and mouth, shoving the knuckles of his hand between his teeth to keep the cries of pleasure from spilling forth. Instead, its muffled, soft grunts that are succeeding in reigniting the fire in Bull’s groin again.

Orgasm building, Dorian’s toes begin to curl and he pushes up into Bull’s mouth, cock hitting the back of the other man’s throat. Heels dig into Bull’s back, muffled cries making their way past his knuckles. Bull hums happily as he sucks and bobs, pleased with the noises Dorian’s making, pleased with the flush that’s creeping across all of Dorian’s body. A whimper is the only warning that Bull gets before Dorian comes hard, biting into his own hand, muscles going taut. Bull runs a hand down Dorian’s tight stomach, his chest, flicking at a nipple as he milks the last of Dorian’s orgasm from him, sucking and licking.

“Bull,” Dorian stutters weakly, and Bull draws away from Dorian’s member. Gently, he eases Dorian’s legs back down to the bedroll, reaching up to cup a hand against Dorian’s face, admiring the beauty there. He soothingly rubs Dorian’s shoulders, easing away any lingering ache the position might have left. Dorian’s purring beneath him, still panting slightly and looking up with lidded eyes:

“You still haven’t fucked me.”

Bull growls, his soft look turning back into something more hot and wanting. He leans down over Dorian, propping himself up with an elbow to not crush the mage beneath him, and plants a burning kiss on his lips. Their teeth click together at the force of the kiss, before they’re both pressing hungrily against each other’s lips. Dorian bites down on Bull’s bottom lip, earning himself another growl. In the little room they have between them, Dorian’s hands trace down the hard lines of Bull’s chest. His fingers trace the grooves of scars before finding one of Bull’s hard, gray nipples and pinch. The large man’s member twitches against Dorian’s leg, and the mage smiles triumphantly. Abruptly, Bull pulls away, crossing the tent to his chest full of his personal affects. From it, he pulls a long cord of crimson rope and a small vial of oil, Dorian moaning teasingly when the Bull turns towards him, supplies in hand.

“Roll over,” Bull grunts, and Dorian hurriedly complies. He’s on his knees, hands behind his back, having an idea of what the Bull wants. The large man begins to quickly and efficiently bind Dorian, elaborate knots and lines across Dorian’s chest, ending in a tight knot between Dorian’s wrists, keeping his hands tied together in the small of his back. He takes a moment to examine the man before him, red stark against his dark skin, lines of rope looping under his pectorals, across his stomach, around his arms. Dorian gives a wicked smile and tilts his head slightly under the gaze, before Bull moves back behind Dorian.

Roughly, Bull grabs Dorian’s bottom, eases his cheeks apart. He wets his tongue, then leans in, running it against Dorian. The mage hisses slightly at the warm, wet sensation, pulls away on reflex but Bull’s tongue follows. Moaning softly, Bull rubs his tongue against Dorian again and again, making him jerk and tremble slightly. When he lets out a stuttering moan, Bull probes into Dorian, earning another sharp hiss. He’s already pulling at the ties around his wrists, fingers flexing and spreading as Bull skillfully explores him. Burying his face into the blanket beneath him, Dorian pushes backwards against Bull, begging for more. Bull complies, fingers digging into Dorian’s cheeks, tongue pressing deeper, flicking in intricate patterns.

“More,” Dorian pleads, turning his head just slightly and shifting slightly beneath the Bull. A hum vibrates up through Bull’s tongue, making Dorian jerk again, “Please, Bull.”

Drawing back slightly to kiss Dorian’s back, his bound hands, his dimples about his ass, he pops open the vial of oil and slicks up his fingers. Dorian groans, wiggling his ass in Bull’s face temptingly. Grabbing Dorian by one hip, he begins to slip one finger inside Dorian, slowly. He stops at the first knuckle, waiting for Dorian to relax slightly before pressing in farther. His movements are slow, deliberate at first, letting Dorian get used to the sensation. Initially, Dorian’s gritting against it slightly, until he’s moaning. Bull picks up the pace then, steadily thrusting a finger in and out of Dorian, causing the man to make gentle noises of pleasure. When Dorian’s relaxed around his finger, Bull presses another inside slowly. Dorian’s hands clench for a moment at the added digit, Bull slowing down again.

“ _Come on_ ,” Dorian insists, his voice a breathy whine. Bull smirks, leaning forward to sink his teeth into the fleshy part of his ass. Breath catching, Dorian swears quietly. A kiss follows the bite as Bull falls back into the steady rhythm of working Dorian with his fingers, adding a third. The man is burying his face into the blanket under him, writhing and groaning, and Bull knows he wants to see him, to see his face as he groans and bucks. As long as they’ve been doing this, Dorian still has a tendency to cover his face, to sling an arm over his eyes or turn his head into the pillows. Old habits are hard to break.

After he’s sure Dorian’s ready, he eases out of Dorian. A little roughly, he yanks Dorian up to his knees, starts undoing the knots.

“What-” Dorian takes a moment to form a response, panting and sweating, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I have an idea,” Bull grunts, working quickly.

“And how I like your ideas,” Dorian teases, still confused but trusting Bull. The qunari leans forward, nips at Dorian’s neck, causing a shudder to run down his spine. In a few moments, Dorian’s free of the bindings, Bull running gentle hands across anywhere the rope touched.

“This idea,” Dorian insists, turning to face Bull, hands on his hips. He looks Bull up and down, the sweat dripping off of him evidence enough that Bull’s enjoying this, too. It slips across his silver mass of flesh, accenting grooves and scars. As Dorian watches, Bull touches himself, smirk on his face. Dorian’s eyes narrow slightly, “I better be involved in this idea.”

“Oh, you are,” Bull licks his lips, slowly sitting down on their bedroll, “Get behind me and put your arms over my shoulders.”

Dorian looks skeptical for a moment. When Bull raises his eyebrows questioningly, he rolls his eyes and complies. He drapes an arm over each one of Bull’s shoulders and the other man grabs them, pushing his wrists together and tying them again.

“What are you doing?” Dorian hisses.

“In my lap.”

Beg your pardon?”

“C’mon.”

With some effort, Dorian maneuvered around the Bull. He ducks under his horns, purposefully bumping his head.

“You really are a brute,” Dorian mumbles.

Bull chuckles, ruffling Dorian’s hair as he sits in his lap. Their faces are close like this, with how Bull tied the knots, warm breath mingling between their mouths.

“Now you have to look at me,” Bull states. For a moment, Dorian’s eyes grow wide. Often, Bull’s gaze is intense and unrelenting during sex, and Dorian has to look away. With gentle fingers, Bull has turned Dorian’s face back to his before. It’s hard to be mad at the Bull with the gleam that’s in his eye.

Almost emptying the vial, Bull begins to slick his hard cock with one hand, watching Dorian intently. Dorian wriggles slightly, making Bull groan when his backside brushes against his erection, Dorian grinning in reply. Then, Bull guides Dorian’s hips up and then back down, slowly easing inside Dorian. The mage wraps his legs around Bull’s waist, letting out a low groan, pressing his forehead to Bull’s.

“Good,” Bull growls, enjoying Dorian pressed so close with no way to pull back, no way to distance himself this way.

Bull guides Dorian, settling deeper into him each time Dorian eases back down. Dorian tugs slightly on his binds, trying to pull back as he lets out an especially loud groan. Remember his warning about keeping it quite, Bull steals his mouth in a messy kiss. After a few moments, Dorian’s eyes flicker open to meet Bull’s, the closeness feeling strange and, somehow, exactly what he needs.

Slowly at first, Dorian begins to grind against the Bull. Large gray hands move from chiseled hips, trace across lines of abs, up and down the curve of his back. When Bull rakes his nails across Dorian’s skin, he lets out another deep groan, biting his lip.

“You look so good like this,” Bull growls, hand going to cup Dorian’s face, “Not hidden away, but all mine.”

Dorian whimpers slightly, picking up the pace of his grinding. He lets his eyes falls closed in concentration, moving rhythmically against the Bull, making low moans of pleasure with each movement. Bull groans in answer, and his eyes never close, always studying Dorian’s face. The mage’s face is knit in beautiful concentration and pleasure, sweat dripping from his hair. He bites his bottom lip, which is already kiss-swollen, until Bull steals his mouth in another kiss. Another low groan is passed from Dorian’s mouth into Bull’s, and he tightens around Bull.

“Dorian-” Bull grunts out, trying to keep the mounting feeling of orgasm at bay for a little longer, wanting to make this last as long as possible. Dorian’s not helping, with the way he’s biting his lip, making muffled groans, breathing out Bull’s name. He slows his grinding to an agonizing pace, and Bull doesn’t know how much more he can take. Dorian’s eyes flicker open again, his also blown wide with pleasure, he studies Bull’s steel eye with a deep look of adoration and want.

“Bull,” Dorian breathes, blinking slowly and purposefully.

Roughly, Bull takes Dorian by the hips, lifting him up slightly. He begins to thrust up in Dorian, the sound of flesh meeting flesh filling the tent, and Dorian throws his head back with a shrill whine of pleasure. He tugs against the restraints again, then his manicured nails dig into the back of Bull’s neck. Bull runs his tongue up the length of Dorian’s muscular, tense neck, making the skin shudder beneath wet and warmth.

“ _Bull_ ,” Dorian cries out again, coming against their stomachs and chests. Some even manages to reach Bull’s chin. His body tightens around Bull’s length, drawing a whine from Bull as well. Dorian’s shuddering, trembling beneath his hold, toes spread in ecstasy, eyes squeezed tightly shut as the last of the orgasm escapes him. He moans, low and long, as Bull continues to thrust up into him, just on the edge of orgasm himself. When Dorian leans forward, lapping his come off of Bull’s stubbled chin, Bull lets himself go. He pulls Dorian back down onto his cock, Dorian whimpering slightly, and stills inside him.

“Kadan,” escapes his lips as he comes, making Dorian whine. His fingers dig into Dorian’s hips, bound to leave bruises, and he growls as he finishes coming in a few jerks that fill Dorian.

Panting, Dorian lays his head on his arm, trying to catching his breath and smiling. Bull ruffles his sweaty hair, breathing against Dorian’s neck, humming happily. After a few moments, Dorian kisses the side of Bull’s face and Bull smiles softly.

“The restraints,” Bull says blearily, feeling as worn out as Dorian looks. Sweat soaks the other man’s hair, his eyes now lidded in sleep instead of lust, his body slack and relaxed and still tingling.

“I got them,” Dorian mumbles, and there’s the feeling of heat against the back of Bull’s neck as Dorian wiggles his fingers, quickly burning away the rope. Carefully, Bull takes the slim hands in his own, completing covering them as he rubs gentle circles into the skin. He brings them to his lips, kissing gently at the light bruises.

“You alright?” Bull asks, Dorian laying his head against Bull’s shoulder, looking ready to fall asleep.

“More than alright,” Dorian smiles gently, “Might have to take up dragon hunting as a hobby, if this is the reward.”

Bull chuckles lightly. He eases Dorian up off of him, the man whining slightly at the absence, and holds him against his chest. Gradually, he eases them down onto their bedroll, Dorian pressed on top of him, breathing steadily as he begins to drift to sleep.

“Amatus,” Dorian breathes, smiling as he falls asleep against the Bull.

 

 

 

 


	5. Golden Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story is winding down, with the penultimate chapter exploring Dorian and Bull's relationship in a bit of a filler chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy filler because it felt right.

Two more dragons (and two more dragon-fight induced sex) later, the team is returning to Skyhold. They’re due to arrive later in the day, in time for dinner, but the trek is slow for all of them. They’re all sore and worn out from the dragons, from hiking up and down the lyrium-riddled mountains to do so. Dorian seems especially weary, the mage rarely complaining about the cold seeping into his boots or the bloodstains on his robes. While Dorian does feel especially worn-out, from the fighting and the sex, his thoughts are faraway as he plots his next move in the dragon tooth exchange.

“Dorian?” Bull asks, feeling somewhat guilty, knowing he’s partly to blame for mage’s apparent soreness.

“Hm?” Dorian blinks back to reality, eyes focusing and settling on Bull beside him.

“You doin’ alright?” The worry in his tone is apparent, and it makes Dorian smile slightly.

“I’m fine, you big oaf,” Dorian says softly, patting the other man’s arm affectionately.

“Don’t seem fine,” Bull huffs slightly, eying Dorian, knowing there’s something he’s hiding.

Dorian shifts slightly under the Bull’s gaze, the worry that Bull is going to see right through all his carefully-laid plotting reigniting, “You think I can’t handle a few dragons and some snow?” He manages to come off as haughty, though he’s sure Bull sees through that, too. It still earns him a chuckle.

“The dragons, I know you can handle. But the _snow_ ,” Bull teases, reaching a hand out to ruffle Dorian’s hair.

Dorian quickly swats him away, grumbling Tevene swears and catching up with Sera instead. When he glances back at the Bull, the brute is grinning widely at him and he turns away quickly to hide the smile pulling at his own lips.

~~~

When they finally return to Skyhold, all Dorian wants to do is sleep. It’s still light out, people buzzing through the courtyard to welcome the party back home and to hurry towards the tolling of the dinner bell. Blearily, Dorian is jostled around by the crowd before Bull catches his arm, guiding him through the groups of people. When they’re in the shadows outside of the tavern, Bull studies his face carefully, and Dorian averts his eyes as if that’ll help hide some of his thoughts. A gentle finger runs under Dorian’s eyes, frowning at the dark circles from lack of good sleep, from the physical exertion, from nearly draining all his mana time and time again while fighting the beasts.

“You doin’ okay?” Bull asks again.

Dorian laughs nervously, “As I’ve said countless times before, I’m fine. Just tired.” The statement is punctuated by a large yawn, which Dorian tries to politely hide with a ringed hand.

“C’mon,” Bull nods upwards, towards his room - which might as well be their room, with how often they’re found in it together.

“But-” Dorian goes to object, because he’s worried that the more time he spends around the Bull, the more opportunity he has for the Bull to find out, for the secret to slip out somehow.

“Keep stalling and I’ll just carry you up to bed,” Bull threatens gently, hand brushing against Dorian’s cheek.

Dorian sighs, thoughts settling down as he decides that avoiding Bull would be just as suspicious, “ _Fine_.”

With Bull’s palm pressed firmly against his back, Dorian makes his way through the tavern. It’s busy, soldiers bustling around, Sera already at a table with Blackwall and Varric, retelling their dragon fighting escapades. When she spots the pair, she snorts and begins to tell another story.

“And these two, shoulda seen how they couldn’t keep their hands off each other after the whole time,” Sera jeers loudly, somehow affectionately, “I thought they were going to get down and dirty right in the middle of the battlefield.”

“That’s quite enough,” Dorian hisses, his ears going bright red even as he tips his chin up broadly. Bull isn’t able to hide his smug smile, but he stays silent.

“Chief!” the Chargers all cheer, excited to have their leader back, having heard tales of the dragon-conquering already.

“Hiya, boys!” Bull calls back warmly, waving enthusiastically at the wall full of Chargers.

They’re nearing the stairs and Dorian feels suddenly guilty at being so tired, as people clamor for their attention. He stalls, Bull nearly knocking him over as he trades jokes and jabs with his men.

“Hmm?” Bull asks, voice going low so it’s only for Dorian.

Dorian turns so he can face Bull, “You can stay, share your stories of _conquest_ of one type and another.”

Bull snorts slightly, “Nah. I’ve got someone I’d rather spend my time with.”

Flustered, Dorian’s lips move as he tries to figure out a worthy response. His heart is thundering in his ears, swelling with adoration and fondness he’d thought he’d grown cold to until the Bull had crashed through his well-built walls somewhere along the way. Instead, he swallows thickly, nodding. Knowing how uncomfortable public displays of affection still makes the smaller man, Bull reaches out to squeeze his hand gently instead of placing a kiss on Dorian’s lips like he wants to. It causes another flip of the mage’s heart, the simple gesture speaking volumes. In return, he worms his fingers between Bull’s, the qunari’s smile growing wide and almost giddy.

“Come on, then,” Dorian says, somewhat breathlessly.

Hands still linked, Dorian starts up the stairs, Bull following closely after. Sera’s chattering after them, teasing and whooping, but the words never settle into Dorian’s mind, his thoughts filled with a haze of fondness. As they retreat further and further up towards Bull’s room, the tavern’s cacophony becomes a soothing din of voices. When Dorian swings the door open and it closes again behind Bull, the quietness makes Dorian a ball of nerves again. There’s the chance he’ll give away the Dragon Tooth before he’s ready - Dagna still has to make necklaces out of them. There’s also the chance that Bull mentioned the teeth in passing, as something to sooth him in the moment, and wasn’t ready for such a big commitment to their relationship, to Dorian. The worry begins to buzz in his mind, even as he can feel Bull’s hot breath on the back of his neck and his hand firmly around his own. As always, the worried buzz sounds like his father, doubting the realness of their relationship, of how any sort of relationship between natural-born enemies can last, especially one between two _men_ -

“Hey,” Bull says suddenly, pulling Dorian from his thoughts.

Dorian starts slightly, then Bull smooths his hands across Dorian’s back, gently turning him around. The sudden worry and doubt is apparent on Dorian’s face, his eyes cast downward as he tellingly worries at his bottom lip. With a gentle finger, Bull tilts Dorian’s head up to meet his eye, “What’s going on in there, big guy?”

Dorian grumbles something unintelligible before starting to speak, “It’s just that-”

Bull’s fingers move to caress the slight stubble on Dorian’s jaw that’s accumulated after rushed, sloppy shaving during their travels, and the light catches the ring on Bull’s pinky finger. Dorian takes in a shaky breath, but smiles slowly, having almost forgot that he never took the ring back from the Bull. He realizes he was foolish to ever doubt the man, who seemed to be made of affection and sincerity and honesty. He knew, in the depths of his heart, that he was Bull’s and Bull’s was his, unwaveringly, and they didn’t have to have matching dragon teeth to prove it.

“It’s nothing,” Dorian smiles up at him, placing his own hand over Bull’s.


	6. Dragon Teeth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the exchange of the dragon tooth occurs.

When Dorian wakes the next day, there’s bright light filtering in through the hole in the roof and no sign of Bull. He rolls over, squinting up at the sky above as he tries to gauge what time it is. Quickly, he realizes it’s late into the afternoon and he’s slept an awfully long time. He stretches slowly, knowing that Bull is either training or drinking with his men. He’s grateful that Bull doesn’t always wake him early, knowing which mornings he needs to be awoken with soft kisses and which mornings he needs to sleep through lunch. Rubbing at his eyes, he rises and crosses the room, pulling out things from his drawer in Bull’s wardrobe.

Sometime before he fell asleep, Dorian had decided to get the dragon tooth necklaces made as-soon-as-possible. With Sera and the Inquisitor being a bit more than friendly and Cole often lurking in the shadows of the bar, it was just a matter of time before _someone_ lets the secret slip. The sooner Dorian dealt with it, the better.

Once he was put together, hair slicked into its usual style, kohl precisely applied, mustache expertly shaped, he hurried down through the tavern. Somehow, he almost misses the Bull’s great shape along the wall, until he calls out to Dorian.

“Got a hot date?” the Bull asks, glancing Dorian over. The mage is put together especially well, his hair and makeup immaculate and he’s wearing one of his favorite cerulean robes, making Bull realize that Dorian still is hiding something. Bull sees it as what it truly is — an expertly crafted guard that Dorian has developed to hide behind. Dorian falters slightly, slowing his flight from the tavern, and takes a few hesitant steps towards Bull’s table.

“I, ah, I …” Dorian clears his throat and crosses his arms, wishing for a brief moment that his lover wasn’t a former spy. He suppresses the urge to flinch at his own bumbling, “Meeting Dagna for some research.”

Bull nods slightly, studying Dorian’s face. It’s not a complete lie, he decides:

“Careful not to burn down Skyhold. I’m not sure which of you is more enthusiastic about fire.”

Dorian snorts, rubs at his elbow nervously, “Quite. I shouldn’t keep her waiting. Her time is rather precious, what with studying the Fade and Red Lyrium and whatnot.” He knows he’s laying it on rather thick, verging on rambling.

“Be back for drinks?” Bull winks that horrible, ridiculous one-eyed wink.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Dorian smiles warmly then, arms dropping to his side as his defenses fall a little.

 

~~~

Dagna takes no time to make a set of matching necklaces. It’s a waste of her talents and skills, really, but the dwarf seems thrilled to do Dorian a favor. She yammers incessantly at him about fire and magic when he stops by to check on the progress. He has a fondness for the woman, who chose to pursue magic despite the naysayers and the fact that dwarves can’t cast. Blacks sheep have to stick together, he thinks affectionately as she rambles about ways their new knowledge of the Red Lyrium could be a benefit for the Inquisition, the thrill of danger making Dagna’s eyes gleam passionately. He promises to help her in some of her studies in exchange for the favor — as long as its not as a test subject — and she’s thrilled at the prospect of a mage to study and bounce ideas off of.

Dorian wanders Skyhold for days with the blasted things in his pocket, huge and obvious if he doesn’t make sure to hide them under layers of robes. Sometimes, the moment feels almost right — when they’re laying in bed together after a night-long romp, or the morning after when Dorian wake up to Bull’s gentle touches, or even when they’re just sitting together and laughing in the tavern, Bull looking astoundingly handsome as he guffaws over something Dorian’s said. Then, his nerves get the best of him, and he leaves it for another moment, another day.

Tonight, the tavern is swarming after many of Skyhold’s soldiers participated in a game of Wicked Grace with Varric. Some are drowning their sorrows, griping about their loses, while others are singing merrily and buying rounds and rounds of ale for anyone nearby. Bull laughs at both types of soldiers, shaking his head slightly.

“Varric sure knows how to throw a party,” Bull observes as someone sobs over their ale. Dorian is siting across the table from the Bull, most of the Chargers taking advantage of the free rounds that are being given out by making fast friends with the happy soldiers.

Dorian eyes them wearily, remembering how many bets he’s lost to the dwarf, “I sympathize. The man is a swindler.”

Bull snorts, “And you can’t seem to deny a bet, even when you’re sure to lose.”

Dorian sniffs proudly, “A bit of competition is healthy.”

“Not when you have barely enough coin to pay your tab at the end of the night.”

“I think that’s what I have you for.”

It’s all good-natured, Bull grinning a wide, lopsided grin at Dorian as the mage sticks his nose in the air, despite his warm smile.

Suddenly, someone’s clapping Dorian hard on the back. He spills some of his ale into his lap, swearing loudly as he looks down at his damp robes and now half-full mug.

“You two make me wanna heave when you get to flirting,” Sera pulls a face, but the smile that follows is affectionate. She plops down at the end of the table.

“Here to reap the benefits of these poor sods?” Dorian questions, smirking at the elf.

Sera shrugs slightly, “Nothin’ wrong with makin’ new friends.”

“You sound a lot like Bull’s men.”

“ _Horns pointing up_ , or some rubbish!” Sera replies, raising her index fingers next to her temples and wiggling them, along with her tongue, in Bull’s direction. The large man lets out a belly laugh, which rumbles through Dorian. He looks at the two of them, laughing and talking happily, and feels at ease. It’s nice to have a little family, as unexpected and ragtag as it is, and Dorian wouldn’t trade it for anything. He mostly listens distantly, just enjoying being there with them, as he sips on mugs of ale. It isn’t until Sera’s chatting excitedly that Dorian becomes fully aware of the conversation again.

“Can’t believe our Sparkler decided to put up with a frozen mountain of horny dragons in order to make the pair of you matching-” Sera’s saying when Dorian comes to, eyes going wide and frantic. He reaches out hurriedly, practically smacking Sera in the face as he clasps a hand over her mouth. He avoids looking over to Bull, knowing the man has to have pieced it together by now.

“ _Fasta vass_ , can’t anyone in this wretched lot keep their nose out of other people’s business?” Dorian shrills, surprise growing into anger as he realizes all his carefully laid plans are crashing down. The dragon tooth in his pocket feel like weights now, and he still avoids Bull’s gaze.

“Who’s put a bee in your britches, Dorian?” Sera grumbles, pulling Dorian’s hand away from her face. Then, she looks to Bull, understanding hitting her when she realizes neither of the men are wearing necklaces, “ _OH_.”

“ _OH_ ,” Dorian mimics, irritation clear in his tone.

“Kadan,” Bull says softly, and for a beat, Dorian still refuses to look at him. Then, his gaze slowly moves to meet Bull’s. The man is grinning, wide and handsome and loving, “You really aren’t good at keeping secrets.”

Dorian blinks slowly — once, twice.

“You _knew_?”

“Of course I knew,” Bull chuckled, shrugging slightly, “ _You_ , willingly going Dragon hunting? Did you think I bought the Herald’s excuse of needing you for research and firepower for more than a second? Then you were sneaking around, meeting with Dagna-”

“Dagna and I are fellow _scholars_!”

“Dorian,” Bull said softly, reaching out to touch Dorian’s hand.

“Well, since the gig is up, I might as well…” Dorian pulls the matching necklaces out, setting them both on the table.

Dorian chose one of the smaller teeth from the dragon, deciding having a ten-pound weight around his neck wasn’t altogether practical. The thing was still was the size of Dorian’s fist. Dagna had set the halves in dawnstone, the Bull’s favorite, the white halves gleaming under intricate patterns of the metal. They were secured on silver chains, ready to be worn. Carefully, eyes trained on the split tooth, Dorian slides one across the table.

“Dorian,” the dopey grin on Bull’s face is obvious in his voice, “This is perfect.”

“Really?” Dorian asks meekly, eyes slowly lifting. When he sees Bull, the happy grin on his face, the brightness of his eye, the pure look of love on his face, Dorian’s throat goes tight. It’s overwhelming sometimes, how much Bull really does care, really does _love_ him. Because of him, Dorian is slowly realizing that he deserves the love, deserves the happiness that came with being with Bull. The mage splutters slightly, a trickle of tears running from one of his eyes, and he goes to hurriedly wipe it away. Instead, Bull stands and catches his hand, leaning forward across the table to place a deep kiss on Dorian’s lips. Surprised and entirely pleased, Dorian makes a slight whimper against those scarred lips, before kissing back just as lovingly.

“ _Ugh_ , get a room!” Sera shrieked, making gagging noises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it, chums! Hope you had as much fun as I did. It ended differently than I had initially planned, but that's how life goes sometimes, innit?   
> I plan on writing much more of these two. (Perhaps a sequel about Dorian's amulet??)
> 
> xoxo  
> http://thekingofcarrotflower.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> PS: I know Dorian's ring might not actually fit Bull, but, artistic license, amirit?  
> The smut lap scene was inspired by someone on tumblr mentioning Bull making it so Dorian couldn't look away during sex. Thanks, out there!!  
> Send me some notes or suggestions~  
> http://thekingofcarrotflower.tumblr.com/


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